


Shattered

by AmberKellyDarrow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Past Drug Addiction, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, reader has no pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberKellyDarrow/pseuds/AmberKellyDarrow
Summary: "The one you shattered? I can fix it.” He said, hand already hovering over your hip. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, you had the unfortunate feeling it wouldn’t be the last.





	Shattered

It was a cold, fairly dreary night in mid-October when you pulled yourself into the Impala, closed the door and let your body clunk against it muttering a few choice words under your breath. The other three doors closed, one of them, Sam or Dean it was too dark and too much pain to tell or care, started the engine. You felt the dip in the seat as Castiel shuffled into some sort normal sitting position.

“Are you alright?” Cas asked as the car started to move, you were headed two states over and ready to just go to sleep, they’d drive through the night, you’d find a diner open early when you got there eat and figure just what you were dealing with, figure out how to kill it, and figure out where you were going next.

“Yea, yea, just my hip giving me grief.” You muttered already trying to curl in a comfortable position.

“The one you shattered? I can fix it.” He said, hand already hovering over your hip. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, you had the unfortunate feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

You hit his hand away with an admittedly a pathetic, flailing motion coupled with a grumbled ‘fuck off’ and curled further in on yourself. Still not actually comfortable, but better.

He didn’t try again and you managed to sleep for a couple hours. When Sam woke you up while Dean was filling up the car, you were confused, there was a blanket on you. After you were awake enough to figure out that it was not a blanket, but Castiel’s coat. You were fairly certain that it was on the floor after you pushed it off and got out, your hip didn’t feel right yet but, it was better than before. You went in the station, got a drink and a bag of black liquorice.

\---

You’d gotten used to waking up with his coat over you, you couldn’t figure out why. You didn’t mention it, no one mentioned it, you just made an effort to not throw it on the floor anymore. There was an increasing number of other strange things he did, disappearing only to show up a minute later with a bag of that liquorice that made up the most of your caloric intake, one night when your pelvis felt like it was splintering into twenty pieces all over again, close to breaking down and letting him try to fix it, you’d let it slip how you’d  had a Percocet problem for the first three years after your accident.

\---

It was your shift to drive, Dean was passed out two feet to your right, Sam in the back, even more dead to the world than his brother. It was a nice if not a bit cool summer night and you had three states to pass through, the windows were down and the music was playing when he leaned forward and asked about the accident, “I crashed a nice little Suzuki. Some drunk hit me off a back road and into the ditch. Bike landed on my right side. I was there for a couple hours, ready to, you know, die when someone noticed. 

‘They managed to pull what has left off me while we waited for an ambulance. I was in a way lucky, if I had landed anywhere else my broken femur would have cut the artery and I would bleed out internally, the right half of my pelvis was in 26 pieces, doctors thought I had actually gotten my spinal cord severed. That would have been better, they could have just amputated the worst of it. Three surgeries and too many screws and steel plates latter my pelvis was in the correct amount of pieces. 

‘We managed to find the guy who hit me, there was insufficient evidence that he came on my side of the road, and it got out that I had been at a bar, I wasn't drinking mind you, but I didn’t have proof good enough that I hadn’t driven myself off into that ditch when he passed me.” You told him, only then realizing that you’d never gotten around to telling him how you got so messed up.

“When did you get addicted to the Percocets?” He asked because of course he remembered and now was a great time to ask all the personal questions.

That was a question you didn’t like, it was embarrassing, it was a dark bit of your life, you hadn’t told Sam or Dean yet, “You don’t want to hear that one.”

“I do, I want to understand you.”

You sat there for a minute driving, thinking, what could he really do? Tell strangers about it. You saw people for a maximum of three weeks before never seeing them again, and it wasn’t like Dean hid his active drinking problems from the world, “It was near the end of the trail when I became depended on them. I’d say I got addicted when the doctor canceled my prescription and I started getting it in back alleys.”

“Why did you stop?”

_ Why do I keep answering your questions,   _ “I was broke, in an awful hotel room that I had picked the lock on. I hadn`t been able to get any in a couple days and withdrawal started. I managed to call my sister in the haze, she got me and made her basement into a  cold-turkey rehab.

‘I’ve never personally been to hell, but I’m fairly certain those next three weeks were what it feels like.” You ended up twisting and arching your spine, trying to get rid of those memories and feelings.

“I see,” He started, sounding a little too happy with himself, “It’s, how do you say it, a badge of honor, a reminder you’re not who you used to be.” Satisfied with himself he leaned back in the seat, you could see his self-satisfied grin in the mirror. He wasn’t completely wrong, and it got him to shut up.

\---

It was nearly Christmas the year after you first woke up with his coat over you when you woke up with him holding you. It could have been picturesque if you hadn’t bolted upright in confusion and swore. “I’m sorry, you were cold, and I remembered you hate how uncomfortable that window handle is, I figured I’d be able to-”

“Dean? How much longer are we stuck in this fucking tin can?” You said, two days of straight driving, living off gas station food rather than go all the way into some town, and you were starting to lose your mind.

“Few more hours, and don’t talk about Baby like that,” He muttered something else.

You pulled the coat back over yourself, and started to lay back down on Cas’ chest, you noticed he seemed to have frozen and you lifted yourself back up, “Do you mind?”

“No,” He said, confused himself rather than you for once, “Not at all.”

And so you did. You could hear Dean say something, and you told him off under the defense of ‘keep your car warmer then’.

\---

You weren’t fully sure what he did when he watched you sleep, counted freckles, once he stated that he likes to watch your eyes dance when you dreamed, maybe he just mulled over the history of pigeons in the U.S. Regardless it was stranger now to wake up without his body heat radiating into you.

**Author's Note:**

> So there's more of me than normal in this one. This was a mostly selfish, cathartic excursion based around my slowly getting looked into, chronic hip pain where I'm fairly certain that I've ground the bone to a nerve but have to get about 5 different people to look at me before I can get imaging done.


End file.
